I Am A Soldier

“This is Sista’ Mean speaking to you from a far off place.
The story-poem you are about to read is true.
Read it if you dare
At your own risk. This is not for the faint of heart.
You have been warned!!

A Soldier’s War © Sista’ Mean.

I am a soldier; I have survived. I survived basic training. Eight hard duty weeks: pounding pavement; keeping pace in cadence to a hundred pairs of leather boots striking ground, mile after mile: and dropping to push-up, and down, to China.

I survived family and relationships; Leaving behind those who loved me.and those who did not.

I paid the ultimate price … and lived to survive the tortuous intrusive suicidal thoughts Dogging me like the hounds of hell. I am woman; not a victim. I have killed.

I survived love, a heart broken, deep sorrow, and on occasion, great joy, the kind that causes one to laugh themselves almost to death. I survived being the only, only, only, among thousands in places unknown. I somehow survived myself. I have survived fear.

Most of the wounds have healed now; scars remain: reminders I’m told. Inside though, I’m not always sure: the heart, the liver, pancreas, blood vessels, nerves, bones, pressures and such

But now, odd sensations, tingles, burnings, pounding, skin changing observations, strange feelings, foot pain, breast change, things not the way they use to be. Loose teeth, This body I bring to the VA concerned but nevertheless confident I will continue to survive. Enter, the sign reads A revolving door to the new dimension: Welcome veteran: you are now a casualty.

Now what can you say to that?”
Peace Out

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